


new year

by venndaai



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: First Time, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, slightly holiday themed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: Breq takes Seivarden with her to a new years' festival on Athoek, but she has ulterior motives.





	new year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SerenadeStrong (ninja_orange)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninja_orange/gifts).



> Content notes: while everything in this fic is enthusiastically consensual, there is a small amount of alcohol involved and some mention of their fucked up past relationship.

“It translates to the Winter Festival,” Facilitator Uran explained. Breq suspected the translation was simplified, but didn’t question it. She was enjoying the tea Uran had offered her. It was not Daughter of Fishes, but a different variety grown by a neighboring commune. The fresh smell of the tea harmonized well with the green-draped decor of Uran’s office.

“It’s a celebration of the sun’s return,” Uran continued. “And a marking of the start of a new calendar year. The archaic Xhai calendar, of course, not the Radchaai one.”

“Of course,” Breq said. The Radchaai calendar had perhaps once had something to do with planetary rotation, before the Dyson sphere had been a Dyson sphere, but that had been very long ago.

“They would be honored if you attended,” Uran said. She had grown quite a bit, Breq thought. Breq could no longer read her emotions on her face.

“Of course,” Breq said. “I’ll bring Lieutenant Seivarden.”

  


It wasn’t until twenty minutes later when she was walking out of the office that it occurred to her that Lieutenant Seivarden might not wish to go, or might have made other plans for the coming week. She was still not used to her new level of non-involvement in her soldiers’ lives. She had been making an effort not to look in on their every moment, but that also meant not knowing their schedules, or their emotional states, all the things that could tell her with near perfect accuracy what decisions to make on their behalf.

 _Well, this is why you’re not doing that,_ she told herself. But when she put the question to Seivarden, her face lit up.

“I haven’t been downwell since Nilt,” she said, and yes, it had been that long, hadn’t it? Nearly four years now.

“We’ll leave tomorrow, then,” Breq said.

 

Seivarden, Breq knew, had had some apprehensions; had been afraid of letting Breq down by not enjoying the event. But these worries turned out to be unnecessary. The celebration their host took them to was like a very large street fair, full of crafts, dancing, a dizzying variety of foods and almost as many kinds of alcohol. The streets of Xhenang Serit were full of couples, dashing in and out of the lively dancing, buying each other sweet fruits, disappearing into shadowed corners. Families with children, too, were out and about. Breq spent several hours with a group of street musicians, leaving Seivarden to her own devices. They met up as the sun was setting, Seivarden bright eyed and energetic. “I thought I wouldn’t like any of the food,” she confessed. “But most of it was all right! People kept giving me free samples. It was kind of them.”

“I’m glad,” Breq said. Seivarden had found her sitting in an open-air bar, listening to the live music. Cups of hard cider were set out along a long table; an empty cup was in front of Breq. Seivarden glanced at it in surprise, and then away.

  


The room they’d been given downtown was not luxurious by downwell Radchaai standards, and Breq suspected this was intentional, a signal that things would not continue the way they once had. By station standards, however, it was a premium suite. Seivarden had exuberantly sung the praises of the bath, having claimed its use first.

Breq also greatly enjoyed her shower. She emerged naked and only a little damp, the room warm enough that she didn’t feel chilled. She went to the window and looked out at the frost-covered city.

Behind her, she could hear Seivarden’s breathing, and her movement through the room. The slight groan of the bedsprings when she sat on the bed. The whisper of fabric as she shrugged out of her robe, the tune she hummed aimlessly while doing so.

Breq spent a few minutes catching up on correspondence, checking in with Mercy of Kalr and the station, and gathering her nerve. When she turned around the room was quiet and still.

Seivarden sprawled on the bed, utterly relaxed. Breq looked down at her. Taking the time to look. Seivarden’s eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Her naked body, once a ruined wreck, now painstakingly rebuilt, lying in dark lines against the pale sheets. Breq looked at Seivarden’s face, remembering it young and spotted, gaunt and sunken, now simply sharp-edged, handsome, faint lines around the eyes lending a deceptive dignity. Breq had hit that face, left it a bloody mess. She had ordered this body into the path of bullets. Once she had taken bullets in its protection. Such a long heavy history of violence, and yet Seivarden’s body held not the slightest shred of tension, laid out and exposed in this darkened room. _And I am the same,_ Breq thought. The hatred she’d once clung to had transformed through the alchemy of time to something else. A need to bury herself in this body, an addiction to intimacy she’d never looked for or expected.

“Seivarden,” she whispered.

The long eyelashes fluttered, the eyes opened. Seivarden transformed from an object to be observed to an observer, looking at Breq. “Hey,” she said, voice blurred with langur.

“Did you enjoy the festival?” Breq murmured.

Seivarden smiled. “Yeah, it was pretty interesting. As primitive uncivilized rituals go,” voice dipping into irony. “A little girl painted a bird on my face.”

“Yes, I saw.” Breq leaned in to examine Seivarden’s face, and found a small smudge of red she must have missed when washing the paint off. She touched it, and Seivarden shivered.

“Of course you did. She told me the birds migrate from the northern hemisphere in the winter, and they mate for life.”

“It is a fertility festival as well as a winter festival.”

“Oh yeah?” Seivarden was close to drowsing. Breq needed to do something about that.

“Yes.” She rested her knee on the bed at Seivarden’s side, and then leaned forward until she was reclining on her side, propped up by one elbow, next to and slightly above Seivarden, but not looming, not blocking her movement if she wanted to roll away. “Perhaps we should celebrate that aspect, as well. For completion’s sake.”

Seivarden’s expression didn’t change for a few seconds, and then her eyes widened. Despite Breq’s efforts to stay out of Seivarden’s data feeds, in her current state she couldn’t block out knowledge of the jolt of adrenaline that spasmed down Seivarden’s spine.

Seivarden’s eyes flickered over Breq’s face. Breq waited. “You’re drunk,” Seivarden decided, half accusatory, half amused.

“Not overly so,” Breq defended.

Seivarden flung her arm over her face. “Don’t tease me.”

Breq laid her own bare hand flat on Seivarden’s arm, and traced along it until her palm was resting on Seivarden’s fingers. Seivarden shuddered again. “I’m not teasing,” Breq said.

Seivarden pushed her hand away, but gently, without any sense of reproof. She pushed herself up on her elbows, scrutinizing Breq’s face again. “I wasn’t- expecting this.”

“I did tell you my no wasn’t forever,” Breq said. She pulled her other knee up onto the bed, and sat up herself. Her hand on the bed wasn’t quite enough to keep her steady. The words were good, she’d thought them through before saying them, but she was afraid Seivarden would display her unpredictable powers of mind reading and see how uncertain Breq was feeling.

Seivarden gestured acknowledgement. “You did, yes. But I thought if I was waiting all the time that might make you feel bad, so it’d be better if I just accepted things the way they were.”

“I see,” Breq said. “Well, the offer is now on the table. And will be tomorrow, too, it’s not a one-time deal. I just-”

“-you just brought me down here for this festival, and got tipsy, as part of a plan to proposition me,” Seivarden interrupted. She was grinning. That had to be a good sign.

“I am not tipsy,” Breq said.

“Come here,” Seivarden said.

As first kisses went, it could have been far more awkward. Months of sleeping in Seivarden’s arms, of quick good-bye embraces in airlocks and casual contact in offices meant they were attuned to each others physical presence. Mouths met with the minimum of teeth scraping.

It was only a few moments before they broke apart, but already Seivarden was breathing as heavily as though she’d been in the gym. Breq could hear herself making an unexpected amount of noise, as well. _I hope these walls are thick,_ she thought. She suspected things were only going to get louder.

“God,” Seivarden breathed, reverentially. Breq leaned back down to bite and suck at the corner of her mouth, along her jaw, down her neck. Seivarden’s hand followed the curve of Breq’s shoulder to grab at her wrist, to bring her right hand up so Seivarden could kiss the fingers, the knuckles.

Breq was entirely on top of Seivarden now, and she sensed the differences in their bodies, Seivarden’s height stretched out, Breq’s knees at her hips, Breq the bulkier one, her thighs half again as wide. If these bodies were both ancillaries, she would never have put them next to each other on parade. They didn’t match at all, and yet when Seivarden’s knee came up, leg bending, Breq slid down until their bodies fit so snugly together it was hard to believe they weren’t meant for this. Seivarden parted her lips, and took Breq’s fingers into her hot, wet mouth, and Breq turned her face sideways on Seivarden’s warm smooth chest and focused on breathing in and out.

Seivarden paused, Breq’s fingers still in her mouth, and Breq knew even without reaching that she was going to ask if Breq was okay, so Breq just sent _Fine. Keep going,_ into her vision, and ground her hips down. Seivarden choked. Breq withdrew her fingers- now wet and slick- and cupped Seivarden’s face, waiting until she swallowed and said, “I’m fine, just startled-” and Breq nodded and bent to kiss Seivarden’s neck and collarbones and shoulders.

“How can you be this drunk,” Seivarden muttered, “you had  _one_ cup of cider.” She laughed. “You’re a lightweight!”

“Maybe compared to you,” Breq said. She did avoid alcohol, generally. It brought down the barriers between her and the universe, made her feel once again larger than her single weak body. One night, maybe eight years ago, she’d gotten drunk enough to pass out on a station a million trillion kilometers from Athoek, and when she’d woken up the feeling of gravity, and of solitude, returning had been unpleasant enough that she’d decided never to repeat the experience. But she’d needed that slight lowering of barriers, tonight.

Seivarden’s fingers ran down Breq’s sides, tracing muscles and old scars, down to the indentations below her hips. She hesitated again, so Breq sucked at her neck hard enough for her to hiss and grab at Breq’s ass.

“I usually have some kind of a plan, in this sort of situation,” Seivarden said. “But you’ve- uh- caught me unawares.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never fantasized about this, Lieutenant?” Breq considered Seivarden’s dusky gray nipples. She considered turning her attention to them next, but she knew what the reaction to that would be and thought it might be best to hold off, considering how overstimulated Seivarden was just from what they’d done so far. And of course, the more aroused Seivarden became, the more her emotions poured through the feedback loop into Breq’s own body.

Seivarden flushed in embarrassment. “You’re usually wearing your uniform,” she said. “In the fantasies. And you tell me I’ve been bad and you’ve got to punish me. For morale.”

“How creative,” Breq said dryly.

“Well,” Seivarden said, “what would you _like_ to do?”

She was completely open, and Breq knew how far that offer went. Wished she didn’t. No one had ever made such an offer to her before. Seivarden, Breq knew, had given such carte blanche to other humans before, to superior officers, but always with the expectation of reward, an exchange of favors, a dispensation of power. The offer she was making now reminded Breq more of what _Justice of Toren_ had given its officers, completely one-sided, unlimited. But Seivarden had more to offer. She had that calm trust, that conviction that Breq _was_ giving her something equivalent in exchange, just by her existence, her passing attention.

It was irresistible, and it was terrifying. Breq said, “Would you enjoy my mouth on you?”

Seivarden laughed, overwhelmed and aroused. “By all means,” she said, and looked up at the ceiling and laughed again, as though inviting Amaat in on the joke. But she was quick to look back at Breq, as though it was hard to take her eyes off her even for a second.

Breq kissed her way down Seivarden’s chest- taking a good minute to suck on her nipples, with satisfying results- down the curve of her stomach, the trail of dark hair. Seivarden’s thighs were already slick, and Breq took the time to kiss them too. Seivarden’s hands clenched on the sheets.  

This was a task Breq was familiar with, having both the ancient experience of an ancillary and a few memories from her travels to call upon. She had also learned a great deal about Seivarden’s body already, from the records of her nights with Lieutenant Ekalu that, even without Breq consciously watching, crept into her subconscious, the muscle knowledge of her tongue, her fingers.

She switched mouth for fingers so she could kiss Seivarden, so Seivarden could taste herself on Breq’s lips, and that was what brought Seivarden over the edge, made her convulse and cry out as she orgasmed. Breq dropped the last of the barriers, pressed her body close and let Seivarden’s climax wash over both their nervous systems, the world nothing but sweat and body heat and the ache in her fingers, Seivarden’s gasp swallowed by Breq’s kiss.

They lay there, pressed together, Breq listening to the thunder of their heartbeats. Seivarden’s hands stroked Breq’s sweat-soaked hair, a gesture both infinitely tender and profane.

“Happy new year,” Breq murmured.

Seivarden’s hands paused for a moment, and Breq felt a moment of swooping regret before they continued. “Ugh, don’t scare me like that,” Seivarden said. “I still have a mountain of paperwork to finish before the Rad- I mean, the Republican calendar turns over.”

“You never know, we might switch to the Xhai calendar officially.”

“Too inconvenient. People never like change.”

Breq kissed her again. “Sometimes they do.”

Seivarden smiled. “All right, yes, sometimes.”


End file.
